The Lycan King's Treasured Luna: Read Chapters 1-5

NARINE'S POV

The first thing life taught me was this, it owed me nothing, and it never would.

You don’t realize how quietly a heart can break until you’re standing inside your own silence, wishing for someone, anyone to hear you. But in my world, the only thing that listened back was the echo of everything I'd lost before I even had the chance to hold it.

I’ve always felt like I never belonged, not in this pack, and definitely not in the family I was placed with.

The day I took my first breath, my mother took her last. My father, unable to survive the vacuum her death left behind, followed her soon after leaving me orphaned before I could even form a memory or so I was told. I know them only through a few faded photographs, and not once have I ever felt their absence as love lost.

Alpha Joe, our pack leader, handed me off like an unwanted gift to Ama and Vargos. For a while, a sweet cruel while, they treated me like their own. Until I was seven and Ama’s belly began to swell with new life.

Then the world shifted. Suddenly, the arms that once cradled me grew cold. The eyes that once sought me out in a crowd turned past me like I was nothing more than air.

They were so obsessed with their new baby, they forgot I needed food, warmth, and love too. I learned to fend for myself, scrounging leftovers from the fridge, and burning my small hands trying to cook meals that tasted as bad as it looked.

When the baby came, they stripped my room bare to make way for his nursery and dumped my things into the storage room like I was no more important than old Christmas decorations.

The storage room had no windows. The summers baked me alive, and the winters froze me to the bone. I slept on a pile of my own clothes because they never bothered to give me a blanket.

At first, I hated Levon for stealing them away. But with time, the hatred rotted into something sadder. You can't lose what was never really yours. And as he grew, I became less of a sister and daughter and more of a servant.

And now...

Today was my eighteenth birthday.

Normally, birthdays meant nothing to me. But today was different. Tonight, under the moonlight, my dormant wolf gene would awaken, and I’ll finally be a full-fledged werewolf.

Even better, once I shifted, I could leave Ama's house, move into the packhouse, find work in the neighboring human town, and start saving enough to finally leave Khragnir and see the world.

A small, secret smile tugged at my lips. I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.

“Narine!” Ama’s shrill voice sliced through the storage room walls. “It’s five in the damn morning! Get your useless self moving!”

I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Hold it in, Narine. Just a few more hours.

I rose stiffly from my pile of clothes and made my outside. There she was, leaning over the railing like a queen surveying her dirty little peasant.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” I whispered. It didn't matter if I was wrong or right. Apology was the only language she spoke.

Ama sneered. “Sorry? You should be. Living off our kindness all these years. The least you could do is pick up more slack. It’s the weekend.”

More slack? What more could I possibly do that wasn’t already dumped on my shoulders?

I swallowed the bitter rage clawing up my throat.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll start on the chores right away.”

Nothing I did would ever be enough. To Ama, I was a burden.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles shook. Deep breaths, Narine. Just a few more hours.

“Get lost.” Ama dismissed, stalking down the staircase like a peacock, with her ginger hair bouncing with every movement. Ama was a pretty woman no doubt with her heart shaped face and striking blue eyes, it was so sad her beauty was tainted by her rotten character.

As soon as she cleared the stairs, I hurried past. Levon’s room was down the hall. I knocked lightly, knowing better than to wake him too harshly. If he threw a tantrum, Ama and Vargos would make sure I paid for it.

After a pause, the door swung open. Levon stood there with his ginger hair sticking up in wild tufts.

“It’s too fucking early, What do you want?” he growled.

“I’m sorry, Levon. I’m here to get your laundry.”

He groaned and disappeared into the room. He reappeared, shoving two overflowing baskets into my arms, and he slammed the door in my face. I gritted my teeth. It had only been six days since I last did his laundry, and somehow he’d managed to dirty a month's worth of clothes.

I let out a puff of air, blowing my bangs away from my face, and turned to leave. I heard the door open again, and I felt something thick hit me right at the back of my head, and an unsolicited grunt left me. The door shut again.

I grabbed the duvet he threw from the floor and lugged the baskets down the stairs. Ama was now conveniently sipping her daily dose of morning coffee while reading one of her highly priced fashion magazine in the living room.

“The washing machine’s broken.”

I froze. “What?”

“It broke yesterday,” she murmured breezily. “Peter from the packhouse can fix it... later. In the meantime, take the laundry down to the river bend and wash it by hand.”

I stared at her, numb. She was serious. Of course, she was. Ama didn’t joke. Not when it came to making my life a living hell. I said nothing, biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. Without a word, I dumped the baskets by the stairwell and stalked to the laundry room for soap.

“Oh, and grab your father’s and my laundry too,” she added smugly. I curse inwardly and made my way back to the kitchen to grab two large trash bags that could fit the piles of clothes.

As I turned, I somehow managed to trip on myself, I quickly grabbed the edge of the wooden counter to break my fall. I sighed in relief, but that was short-lived as I heard a crash near me. I looked over and realized I had accidentally pushed a plate on the counter.

"It better not be what I think it is," I heard Ama’s voice right above my head.

When did she even get there?

Ama came round the counter and gasped. I quickly pulled myself up, before I could stand fully, her palm collided with my face, knocking me backwards into the fridge. I felt pain bloom on my cheeks, and my head ricocheted off the fridge so hard I saw stars for a moment.

Tears spilled from my eyes from the shock and pain.

"You stupid little bitch!" she screamed. "That was a vintage plate!"

"I’m sorry," I whispered.

"That’s all you ever say. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry doesn’t fix your stupidity! Useless girl! You’re nothing but a migraine!”

I stayed silent, letting the insults rain down until she finally stormed off. I wiped my tears with shaky hands, gathered the broken pieces, and cleaned up the mess.

Then, without another word, I heaved the heavy bags onto my back and stumbled outside, down the long path toward the riverbend, less chance of anyone seeing me like this.

The tears didn't stop until I had nothing left to cry. I didn't even realize I'd reached the riverbend until the clearing opened before me. Without wasting time, I knelt and began sorting the clothes into piles.

I didn't own much, just a few worn pieces handed down by random packhouse members. I couldn't afford to let them pile up. Every day, I had to wash them.

Our pack was small, just about two hundred members. I knew that because every year, Alpha Joe oversaw a census himself. We weren't the only supernaturals, though.

At the top of the pyramid were the Lycans, monsters of monsters, descended from seven ancient bloodlines. Each ruled a different kingdom in the seven realms, and our kingdom, Khragnir's supreme alpha, was Sargis, fair and just but ruthless and unforgiving. So, I've heard. He lived in the palace and unimportant people like me weren't privileged to meet him.

Werewolves, on the other hand, were a hybrid mistake. According to legend, a Lycan king fell in love with a human woman named Liyonerida. She was the first of her kind to ever capture a Lycan's heart, and also the first forbidden love of its kind.

Against all advice and rejection, they conceived a child. Unfortunately, being human, she couldn't carry a supernatural baby to term. It was the Great Witch Aeryna who intervened, inducing labor to save the baby although Liyonerida died mere days later and the Lycan king went into isolation.

Cast out and cursed, the boy grew under Aeryna's care. In a cruel twist of fate, the boy later fell in love with Aeryna, and their descendants birthed the werewolf line, basically a watered down version of Lycans. Aeryna's curse twisted the bloodline so that the gene remained dormant during childhood, only mutating fully once maturity hit. Aside from Lycans and werewolves, there were other creatures, too but none mattered to me right now.

I scrubbed the clothes harder, as anger boiled in my chest. Flashbacks lashed through me.

Maltreatment. Verbal abuse. Insults. Physical blows. I felt my veins throb violently and a sharp, splitting pain ignited across my forehead like a migraine. It was so intense I thought I'd black out. Then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

By the time I made it back to the house, the sun was retreating behind the horizon.

I heard voices inside and the unmistakable voice of Alpha Joe. Confused, I pushed open the door. Every head at the dining table turned toward me.

"Alpha," I mumbled.

"I've been waiting for you all afternoon, Narine," he said.

"I'm sorry, Alpha. I was doing laundry at the river bend."

"Laundry?" he echoed, puzzled.

"Oh, Joe," Ama intruded sweetly. "Narine's such a clean freak. She complains the washing machine doesn't get things properly clean."

Joe nodded in understanding.

"Anyways," he continued, "I'm here because it's your birthday. It's custom for the Alpha to bless you and pray that Aeryna's spirit sees you through your transformation from man to beast."

I blinked, stunned. The Alpha remembered my birthday. My parents hadn't.

"Thank you, Alpha," I whispered.

"Come, sit. You must be starving." Ama beckoned.

I hesitated, startled by Ama's sudden show of kindness. But I dropped the bags by the door and took the empty seat beside Levon. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd sat here.

There was toast, chicken, prawns, pancakes, pasta, and fruits. I took a single spoonful of pasta.

"Oh, come now, sweetheart," Ama drawled in a cloying voice. "Don't be shy. Joe doesn't mind a little gluttony."

Joe laughed, and I forced a tight smile, doing my best not to react to the thinly-veiled insult. Less than eight hours left, I reminded myself. I could endure that much longer. And then I would shove my fingers right up her smug face.

"Have you always had that mark on your forehead?" Joe asked suddenly.

I touched my forehead, confused.

"What mark?" I asked.

" There's a small red mark there."

"Oh, it must have been from when I bumped into a tree on my way back,"

Joe nodded, accepting it.

The conversation shifted. Vargos and Joe discussed pack matters. Levon played on his phone and Ama chirped in now and then. Dinner ended quietly. I cleared the plates and did the dishes.

I looked out the window. The sky was parting, revealing a full moon, stained deep red.

All of a sudden Heat exploded under my skin. I doubled over, gasping.

"It has begun," Joe mumbled.

"Go to the courtyard," Vargos instructed. His voice was cold and detached like he was issuing orders to a stranger. "Take off your clothes and remember to breathe through the pain."

He had never directly mistreated me, but he had also never stopped it. His indifference made him just as guilty.

Still, I obeyed.

I stumbled outside, while the others trailed behind me. I didn't even make it to the center before the first scream tore from my throat. The air howled with the rising wind. Storm clouds gathered, and lightning flashed across the sky. My own screams were swallowed by the roar of the storm as agony tore through me.

Then, rain pounded down. My bones snapped and elongated, painfully slow. I could feel my spine twisting in odd angles. The pain was so agonizing, all I could do was lay there as tears slipped from my eyes, powerless against the pain. After what felt like an eternity of screaming, the pain finally faded and I laid there panting.

I staggered up on unfamiliar legs, I watched in awe as my golden fur shimmered under the rain, with champagne hues dancing across the sleek coat. The tip of the fur blazed with burnished red that contrasted the golden undertone.

Everything was sharper now. I could smell, see, hear, and feel more than I ever had.

Far-off noises. Every leaf and every drop of water. I could see it all. I howled wildly to the red moon. Then I turned back toward the others, brimming with happiness.

Instead, they were frozen, staring at me like I'd grown two heads.

"Monster," Ama whispered.

Levon's mouth hung open. Joe and Vargos edged forward carefully, as if approaching a wild animal.

I tried to step forward, and they all jerked back.

"What abnormality is this?" Vargos muttered.

"Aeryna has forsaken you, child," Joe whispered.

Panic flooded me. What was wrong? Why were they looking at me like that?

I turned and caught sight of myself in a puddle.

My blood ran cold.

I was huge, towering over even Vargos's six-foot frame. But that's not what startled me. On my forehead, a third eye sat. Its socket was black as void, and the iris glowed molten gold, while my main eyes burned red.

I barely had time to register it before darkness swallowed me whole.

NARINE'S POV

The heavy thud of boots echoed through the narrow, rotten corridor like a hollow sound that rattled the very bones of this godforsaken place. A sharp shaft of light stabbed through the cracks of my dungeon, slicing across the filth-caked floor. The clatter of keys followed, then the groaning screech of rusted hinges. The cell door swung open with a whimper of protest.

I didn't bother turning my head.

It didn't matter who had come for me, they all blurred together now.

There were no windows here. No clocks and No way to tell day from night.

"Oi, you still ain't dead yet?" Tobias barked, his voice bounced off the stone walls like broken glass. I heard the dull thud of a tray dropping beside me.

"You're one strong little b*tch, I'll give ya that," he muttered, almost admiringly, before spitting on the ground. "It's been three years, can you believe it? This f*ckin' pit stinks worse than a rotting sewer. Last time I'm comin' down here, mark my words."

Three years.

The words slithered into my mind like a poisoned dagger, but I felt nothing.

Had it really been that long? Had time forgotten me the same way the world had?

Tobias shook his head and shuffled off until the sound was swallowed by the dark.

I was alone again.

I stared up at the cracked ceiling, tracing the spiderweb of fractures again and again with my weary, hollow gaze.

Every split, every jagged vein etched into the stone above me had been memorized long ago like a map only I could read.

I knew every dent, and patch where mold bloomed like blackened sores. I could replicate it on canvas from memory alone.

That's how long I had been rotting in this dungeon. Long enough for the ceiling to become more familiar than the faces of those I once loved. And now I know three years had passed by already.

It was almost laughable, the conditions now were better compared to when I first woke up here, naked and trembling on the frozen floor.

Cold bit into my skin that night like a living thing. My body curled instinctively into itself, a pathetic attempt to preserve some shred of warmth and dignity. Still. I had hope.

That was before they stripped it from me layer by layer, and shattered my soul, piece by agonizing piece.

Interrogation wasn't the word for it. Interrogation suggested questions and answers.

What they did was not for information. It was for the breaking.

I was beaten until the screams ripped free from my throat, even when my pride begged me to stay silent.

I had been prodded, and violated in every way imaginable. They dragged me again and again to the brink of death, only to wrench me back with cruel hands, there was no mercy. The longer I survived, the more creative they became.

Some days, the pain was so unbearable that my mind shut down, and I would slip into blessed darkness. But every time I opened my eyes again, the nightmare continued. To their credit, they did try to get rid of me. Several times.

But my body, cursed thing that it is, betrayed them. My healing ability was relentless, knitting back together the damage faster than they could inflict it. They turned to silver in desperation, searing it into my flesh to poison the rapid repair. It worked, partially. It slowed the process and left a map of scars etched into my skin.

Joe. I remembered him the most vividly.

He wasn't like the others. He was worse.

He treated me like a puzzle. He peeled my skin back like the husk of a fruit, probing for the 'monster' he swore lurked beneath. Layer by bloody layer.

He would let me shrivel, let dehydration blacken my lips, cracked my tongue and twist my stomach into knots, only to dangle a single drop of water in front of me.

"Shift," he would hiss, shoving the cup just out of reach. "Show me what you really are."

But I was too weak to even to summon the beast he so feared.

I had screamed for death, begged for it in hoarse, rasping sobs until my voice gave out, but even death, it seemed, found me repulsive. It turned its back on me too, leaving me trapped in this decaying shell.

When they realized I was of no use to them and all that remained was a hollow, shivering thing, they simply... left me. Abandoned like a broken relic of the past, left to rot where no one would ever find me.

I could barely remember the world that existed beyond these four crumbling walls.

How the sunlight once kissed my skin, and the stars glittered across the night sky like scattered diamonds. The heat of summer soaking into my bones, the bite of winter's chill, the bloom of spring, and the fiery explosion of colors in autumn.

I ached for it so deeply that sometimes it felt worse than the physical pain.

But those memories were fading now. Turning brittle and gray, and crumbling like ash in my mind.

I could hardly move anymore. My limbs were stiff, and unresponsive, shriveled close to the bone. My skin clung desperately to my frame and cracked like old parchment. I hadn't bathed, or brushed my teeth. And I sure as hell still hadn't been clothed.

To make things worse, as if they could somehow be, there wasn't even a toilet in this wretched place. For three years, I've been sleeping in my own filth, and marinating in piss and sh*t and sweat and blood.

My hair had long since turned into a tangled, matted mass that drags behind me, knotted past my waist like dead vines.

But starvation was the true demon here. The agony of it, the slow gnawing from the inside, the way your stomach turned on itself, eating you alive, It drove me to madness.

I had eaten my own sh*t to stave off the hallucinations of starvation, and drank my own piss to keep from dying of thirst.

Each time I did, another piece of my humanity withered and died inside me. Until there was barely anything left that could call itself human.

I used to wonder if I was cursed. Now I knew I was. If even death would not touch me, then surely I was cursed. Nothing good had ever happened to me from the moment I first drew breath. And I hated, God, I hated everything about that.

I resented my mother for bringing me into this accursed life when she should have terminated me before I got the chance to develop. I resented my father for abandoning me without so much as a second glance. I hated everyone in this pack for turning their backs on me without attempting to give me the benefit of doubt.

If there's one thing endless solitude and suffering has taught me, it's that I am intangible and Insignificant. A speck in the grand scheme of things, easily forgotten. I was going to die here and no one would mourn me or even remembered I existed.

I turned my head, slowly, to glance at what Tobias had tossed beside me.

Probably the usual scrap of moldy pizza and maybe a sip or two of stagnant water if he was feeling generous.

But then I saw it. It jolted through my half-dead nerves like a lightning strike.

The cell door was ajar barely, but clearly unlocked.

For a moment, I just stared, too stunned to even breathe. I blinked several times, wondering if my mind was finally playing its cruelest trick yet.

But no, the truth stood stubbornly before me. Tobias, lazy, careless Tobias hadn't locked it.

A strange, foreign sensation stirred deep within my hollowed-out chest. Hope.

It tried to blossom, stretching it weak tendrils toward the light. But I crushed it hard.

I could attempt to escape or die trying, at least. The probability of success was laughably small. Even if by some miracle I managed to slip past unnoticed, where would I even go in this state? I was barely skin stitched over brittle bones. I couldn't remember what my own face looked like, but I knew I was no sight to behold.

I clenched my jaw, grinding down the thought like glass between my teeth.

I was going to die. That was inevitable. But if I must die, then let it be under the sky,

with the cold wind on my skin and the stars bearing silent witness, or under the sun rays caressing my body, not rotting away, nameless, in this wretched tomb.

With a resolve so thin it could snap at any second, I forced my skeletal frame to move.

My legs trembled violently, unable to bear even the smallest weight. But I didn't care.

I pressed one skeletal hand against the cold bars, the bones creaked in response. I dragged myself forward using the bars. My breathing came in labored gasps, like a drowning man tasting the surface for the first time. One foot in front of the other, One heaving breath at a time. Until, finally, I crossed the threshold.

SARGIS' POV

"Not this again, Mother," I groaned tightly, dragging a hand down my face.

"Yes, this again, son," she snapped right back, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"You are the Lycan King. You ascended the throne five years ago, five years! And yet you still have no queen beside you. It's unheard of! You must take a chosen mate, at once."

I exhaled sharply.

My mother had been hounding me for weeks now, pressing this same tired argument with growing urgency. She wanted me to organize a mating ball, a ridiculous charade where every eligible she-lycan, she-wolf, or any other female creature worth the crown would parade themselves before me and I'd be expected to pick one like a merchant choosing cattle.

"And tell me, Mother," I bit out, "is it my fault that I haven't found my true mate yet? Is that something you believe I can force?"

She stiffened but said nothing.

"I refuse to take a chosen mate," I continued, my anger was barely contained at this point.

"My true one is out there. Somewhere. I feel it in my very bones. One day, our paths will cross sooner or later. And when that day comes, I will not be bound to another in a hollow, meaningless union. I will not betray her that way."

"Nonsense, Sargis," she snapped, her golden eyes flashing. "It has been five years. No Lycan king has ever gone so long without his mate. You need to start accepting the possibility that something could have happened to her. She may be dead, or worse. You must put the kingdom first, son. Your people need their Supreme Luna. The Court was made for two rulers, like Solaris and umbra, equal in power, balancing each other. You cannot keep fighting me on this."

Her voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying her exhaustion and sorrow. But the weight of it only made my blood boil hotter.

I could feel the anger rolling off me in heavy, suffocating waves. Mother took an instinctive step back, as her beast sensed the rising storm within me.

The heat crawled up my spine, until it filled my chest and pushed against my ribs. My beast stirred beneath the surface maddened by the idea of taking another woman, someone not mine into my bed, and binding her with a mark that would have to be forcibly refreshed every d*mn week like some grotesque vampire ritual, filled me with disgust. It would not be love or honor. It would be a betrayal of everything I was born to protect.

And the consequences... if our true mates surfaced later, as they often did... The chosen mate would have to kill my fated mate to keep her crown. And I would have to slaughter her true mate to protect the throne.

"Mother," I ground out, fisting my hands at my sides, "have you ever thought about who you would have been or where you would be if you had never found Father?"

She faltered.

"Sargis, sirun (my love)," she whispered, the old Khragnirn endearment spilling from her lips. "From a mother's heart, I ache for you." I completely understand your pain, and it saddens my heart each day that passes watching you leave the palace in search of your mate, traveling to countries, spending weeks and sometimes even months, only to come back home disappointed, miserable, and emptier each time."

Her hand trembled at her side before she tucked it away.

"But from the Alphamaja's seat (the king's mother), I must remind you of your duty. This kingdom needs its Supreme Luna. It is not just tradition, son. It is stability. A united front that keeps other supernaturals in line."

I closed my eyes, dragging another harsh breath into my lungs, feeling the war inside me rage louder. It all eventually boiled down to duty and honor. A battle I couldn't win.

I sighed, rubbing my face harshly. I see sense in what she was proposing, but I just couldn't shake this gut feeling that my mate was out there waiting to be found. My pacing grew restless on the stone floor of my private chamber. I was a beast caged between two impossible choices, heart and crown. Frustration clawed at me until I couldn't take it anymore. With a snarl, I slammed my fist into the brick wall. The stone cracked and caved under the blow. But it didn't ease the fire burning through me. Nothing could.

I let out a heavy sigh. I had never been one to give in easily, but I knew deep down my mother was right. I had a kingdom to run. A kingdom that needed a Luna, a queen, and someone who could stand beside me, not just as my mate but as the anchor to my storm.

"Fine," I muttered. "Have it your way, Mother. Arrange the ball and send out the invites."

Her eyes sparkled with a rare flicker of joy, as if she had just won a battle, but I raised my hand before she could speak.

"However," I continued. "Grant me until the end of this week. If by then I still haven't found her, I will follow through with your plan with no objection."

"Ordis (son)," she cooed. "You haven't found her in five years. A week won't change anything."

I met her gaze with an intensity that would have burned lesser souls.

"Regardless of the outcome, this is what I want," I reiterated. "And that's the only way I will agree to your matchmaking schemes."

"Alright, son. I truly wish you the best."

With that, she turned and left, her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she disappeared into the distance.

I stood there for a moment longer, the weight of her words still pressed down on me like an iron shackle.

I turned slowly, my eyes falling on the large floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the setting sun. The golden light spilled across the room, casting a long shadow.

"I am Sargis Arevik Sargsyan," I whispered to myself. "The one and only heir to the throne of Khragnir. An apex predator. The beast that strikes fear into every enemy who hears my name."

I let the words hang in the air. I scoffed bitterly, even with all my power, wealth, and influence, there was one thing I could not control, fate.

I tightened my fingers around the edge of the windowsill as I stared into the horizon. My mind swirled with thoughts of what it meant to be a Lycan, a pure blooded one at that. Lycans, unlike werewolves, were destined to be with one person. The balance of the world itself depended on that pairing. A yin and yang. Two forces that needed each other to survive. It was a curse placed on us by Aeryna centuries ago as punishment for Lycans rejecting her lover.

And then there were other species, werewolves, faeries, nyx, sirens, vampires, and so on. They had choices. They could fall in love with anyone, any species, or creature. It was a luxury I didn't have. And that thought gnawed at me.

What if my true mate had already fallen for someone else, someone who wasn't me? The thought made my stomach twist, the cold, bitter grip of jealousy and rage slowly creeped up my spine. If that were the case, I wasn't sure my beast could be contained. The rage, the need to possess her would consume me. I could feel it already, lurking beneath the surface, pushing me to madness. I wouldn't hesitate. I would kill the man. No question. She was mine by right. And I would lay claim to her no matter the cost.

I shook my head violently, trying to clear the dark thought from my mind. I could not allow myself to think like that. I would not lose her to some other man. That thought alone was unbearable. But in the deepest corners of my soul, I feared the truth, feared that she might never show up, that I would be forever alone, waiting for a fate that might never come.

I had been searching for her since I turned eighteen. For five long years, I had traveled across kingdoms, fought battles, navigated politics, and still, there was no sign of her. I couldn't give up, though. Not yet. Not until the end of this week. I had one last chance. And, If we don't find each other by then... I would have to follow through with my mother's plan.

I let out another heavy sigh as I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Lupercus, my prime enforcer. He was more than just an enforcer, he was my most trusted right-hand man, and second-in-command. If there was one person I could rely on above all others, it was Lupercus.

The phone rang a few times before his deep voice came through.

"Your royal highness," he greeted.

"Prepare the car, Lupercus. I want to visit downtown today. Make sure you're as inconspicuous as possible. I don't want to make a fuss or draw unnecessary attention," I instructed.

"Your bidding is done, Supreme Alpha."

I ended the call and set the phone down on the bedside table. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. I turned away from the window toward the walk-in closet. I changed quickly, choosing a simple pair of joggers and a hoodie from the back of my closet. No need for royal attire today. I grabbed a pair of dark sunglasses and pulled a black mask from the drawer. I didn't want anyone to recognize me, not that I feared being seen, but I wanted to move unnoticed. A face cap completed the look, and I slipped my feet into a pair of sneakers.

I made my way to the first-floor garage, where Lupercus was already waiting. As soon as he spotted me, he bowed low. His eyes never left mine as he opened the door to the car. Without a word, I slid inside the blue sedan, a car that was nearly indistinguishable from any other in the kingdom. Perfect for blending in.

Lupercus circled around to the driver's side, slid into his seat, and ignited the engine with practiced ease. The soft hum of the engine filled the car as he put the vehicle in motion.

"Is there any pack in particular we're going to?" he asked.

I leaned back in the seat, resting my head against the cool leather. I hadn't been downtown, not since I was three years old.

"No, not really," I replied distantly as my thoughts drifted to the task at hand. "I just want to take a look around, see what it looks like now, get a feel of what my people are up to... and also, hopefully, find my mate." The last part slipped out softly, almost like a secret.

Lupercus said nothing for a moment, but I could feel his eyes briefly flicker toward me in the rear-view mirror. Without question, he simply nodded and continued driving.

SARGIS' POV

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the slow, throbbing pulse of an oncoming headache. It had been gnawing at me since the fifth pack visit today. I hadn't nurtured high hopes of finding her, no, reality had long ago dulled that childish optimism, but despite myself, a hollow disappointment still chewed at my insides.

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass window, letting the scenery blur into a smear of dusky orange skies, skeletal tree limbs clawing at the heavens, and the occasional twinkling light of distant cabins tucked away. The sun was retreating, and with it, my already dwindling hope.

"How many more packs are left to visit, Lupercus?" I asked defeatedly.

"Seven more, Your Royal Highness," he answered. "In fact, we're pulling up to the next one."

I hummed noncommittally, forcing my heavy limbs into action as the car rolled to a gentle stop. Before Lupercus could even reach for the door handle, I shoved it open and stepped into the cool evening air.

The moment my sneakers crunched against the gravel, I stilled.

Something... felt different here.

The air was thicker, almost buzzing against my skin, scented with damp earth and pine. A restless energy stirred within me, coiling low in my gut.

"This way, Your Majesty," Lupercus uttered, nodding towards a winding trail that snaked through the dense trees.

I followed silently, though I needed no guide when I could easily utilize my senses. Trees bent low as if bowing in reverence, and birds flitted through the branches, calling out warnings to each other as we walked farther into the forest.

The clearing opened up like a secret oasis. Scattered cabins, haphazardly built from old timber and patched roofs, dotted the space. In the center stood a slightly larger structure, worn but sturdy, the alpha's home, judging by the aura emanating from there.

We moved along the dirt path, the curious eyes of a few lingering pack members followed us. Their confusion was palpable, to them, I was just another face hidden behind designer shades, a mask, and casual clothing. My aura was pulled so tightly inward that even their heightened senses failed to register what I truly was.

Good.

Werewolves in human form were woefully oblivious compared to Lycans. Enhanced senses, yes, but without their wolves at the surface, they were barely more aware than regular humans. Unlike us, who lived in perfect, agonizing balance with our beasts.

At the alpha's door, Lupercus rapped his knuckles thrice, his stance was wide and ready should anything untoward occur.

The door creaked open, and an older man peered out, thick blonde hair threaded heavily with gray, a coarse salt-and-pepper beard, and a body that spoke of past strength slowly being devoured by complacency. His sharp blue eyes widened the instant they landed on me, despite the layers I wore to conceal my identity. Recognition flared in his gaze.

He swung the door wide open in an instant, stepping back to allow us entry. It wasn't surprising, in fact, it was expected. All the alphas in the kingdom knew me.

They had to. Every six months, without fail, they reported directly to me, face-to-face.

"Y-Your Highness," the man stammered.

I barely spared him a glance, my patience was already hanging by a fraying thread. My attention shifted, trailing indifferently around the cramped, pathetic room. Family photos hung crookedly on the stained walls, some frames were cracked, and some images inside had faded with time. A rundown couch sagged in the center of the living room, littered with empty bottles of cheap alcohol and greasy wrappers.

The heavy stink of stale beer, sweat, and rot hung in the air like a suffocating shroud.

Pathetic.

The once noble duty of leadership reduced to this mess. Disgraceful.

"Your Highness, pardon the disarray," Joe babbled, wringing his meaty hands as he scrambled to explain. "I am Joe, alpha of the Snow-wolf Pack. I wasn't expecting someone of your caliber to visit suddenly. Moreover, I didn't receive any royal decree informing-"

I lifted a hand, cutting off his pitiful excuses. I simply didn't have the energy for it tonight.

"There's no need for any explanation," I dismissed coolly. "My presence here isn't something to worry about... unless," I let the word hang, heavy with warning, "you have some skeletons in your cupboard, Joe."

I said his name slowly, deliberately, emphasizing each syllable with quiet menace.

Joe paled.

I peeled off my mask and sunglasses, letting him see my face, to see the predator lurking just beneath the civilized veneer.

He stumbled backward a step, almost tripping over his own feet.

"O-o-of course not, Supreme Alpha!" he stuttered, visibly trembling. "I was merely... caught off guard. Pardon my insolence."

"Hmmmm," I hummed, unconvinced, my gaze continuing to sweep the room with open disdain.

How could any self-respecting alpha live like this? How could he allow his people to live like this? But that were matters for another day.

"Tell me, Joe," I drawled, dragging his name out again just to watch him squirm, "how many unmated she-wolves do you have in your pack?"

Joe wiped his sweaty palms down the front of his wrinkled shirt.

"Supreme Alpha," he squealed, "we are merely a pack of two hundred and twenty. Eighty of them are married elders, twenty are children below the age of eighteen, thirty mated youngsters above eighteen, and twenty-five-"

I sliced my hand through the air sharply.

"It seems your ability to comprehend is subpar if you can't even decipher a simple question," I gritted. "Did I ask for an analysis?"

Joe's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping on land.

"Go straight to the point," I finished coldly.

"O-Of course, Supreme Alpha," he mumbled. "There are... about forty unmated she-wolves."

"Where are they?"

"S-Some are staying in the general packhouse, the building behind this one. Others are with their parents in private residences," he answered quickly.

"Summon them all," I ordered, my voice brokering no room for argument. "Have them assemble at the clearing."

"If I may, Supreme-" Joe began, but the words died on his tongue when I turned my full glare on him.

"No," I growled. "You may not, Joe."

I let my beast rise to the surface just enough that my eyes darkened into endless black pools. The room temperature seemed to drop instantly, the air itself shuddering with the weight of my suppressed power.

Joe's knees visibly buckled, and he let out a pitiful gulp, every instinct he had screaming at him to submit.

"Your word is law, Alpha Supreme," he croaked, bowing his head deeply. "P-Please, take a seat while I carry out your command."

I gave the filthy couch another disgusted look and sneered.

"I'd rather not," I said simply, curling my lip with contempt.

Joe bobbed his head rapidly, desperate to please, before stumbling toward the door like a man fleeing the gallows.

"Joe," I called out lazily, just as his hand touched the doorknob.

He froze.

"My presence here is confidential. Handle this discreetly and wisely. Or there will be consequences."

He nodded so fast it was a miracle his head didn't snap off.

And with that, Joe fled the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying and failing to massage away the pounding headache building behind my eyes. Normally, I prided myself on my composure.

But tonight? Tonight, my frustration simmered just beneath my skin, threatening to spill over.

I didn't have it in me to entertain any more shenanigans, not from Joe or anyone else.

"Lupercus," I called, turning to where he stood silently against the peeling wall like a quiet sentinel.

"Your Highness," he answered instantly.

"You can remain here," I told him, already moving toward the door. "I'll find a spot where I can silently observe."

Without waiting for his response, I trusted him to understand. I slid my mask back over my face and adjusted my sunglasses, veiling my features once again.

The scent of mildew and stale air clung to me like an unwelcome second skin as I stepped out into the night. I retraced my steps through the clearing silently. The night welcomed me and shadows swallowed me whole as I slipped into the treeline, into the deeper parts of the woods. It was almost too easy to disappear under the camouflage of darkness. Even if someone had been watching, they would've seen nothing but a whisper of movement.

I scanned the surrounding forest carefully, letting instinct guide me until my gaze landed on a massive oak tree standing proudly in the center of the woods.

It towered over the others, its thick branches sprawling like a natural throne in the sky.

Perfect.

Without hesitation, I leapt, catching the nearest branch easily. I climbed higher, my muscles coiling and flexing with each movement, until I found a spot near the top hidden by the thick canopy, yet offering a perfect vantage point overlooking the clearing.

The wind whispered through the leaves, cool and steady, carrying the clean scent of damp earth and pine. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes for a moment.

The moon hung heavy and luminous above, casting everything in a soft silver glow.

It was beautiful from up here, almost heartbreakingly so.

Is she looking at the same moon? I wondered, a rare wistfulness threading through my chest. Or is she somewhere else entirely, in a different timezone, completely unaware that her mate is tearing apart kingdoms searching for her?